


For Truth

by MiaGhost



Series: For Life, For Love, For Blood and Glory. [12]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Apex Games, Caring, Clearing Up Confusion, Elliot Witt Loves This Woman So Freaking Much, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Forehead Kisses, Forehead Touching, Gentleness, Gunshot Wounds, Holding Hands, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Love Confessions, Misunderstandings, Much Needed Resolution, Near Death Experiences, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Part 12 of LifeLoveBloodAndGlory, Soft Elliot Witt, Tags Are Hard, Truth, finally getting somewhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24533626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaGhost/pseuds/MiaGhost
Summary: It was too close a call. Wraith's in a hospital bed because she tried to save him, and it's about time he addressed the air between them, because he misses his best friend.
Relationships: Mirage | Elliott Witt & Wraith | Renee Blasey, Mirage | Elliott Witt/Wraith | Renee Blasey
Series: For Life, For Love, For Blood and Glory. [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591393
Comments: 2
Kudos: 54





	For Truth

~.~

The room was cast in gentle, soothing shadow. He did his best to keep his feet quiet as he crossed to her bedside. The first thought Elliot had was that she was pale, even among all the equipment and the emptiness of the bed. With the clean, blank sheet drawn up across her shoulders she looked small. Her skin was marred by darkened bruising, but her chest rose and fell sedately and that was what mattered. Elliot's uneven pulse calmed marginally, softened just by being able to see her. It was late, and he'd assuredly be asked to leave if he was found, and his mother would be furious with him for jeopardising his recovery if she came back early and found his abandoned IV lines, but that was a worry for a later moment.

Pathfinder would help, with that. It didn't escape Elliot how much his request meant to his friend, for him to delay visiting Wraith himself to wander the corridors and keep watch for Elliot. Pathfinder was as fond of them as they were him, Elliot knew that. He forgot sometimes, to acknowledge it. It was easy, for all of them, to forget just how much the robot could feel. But he knew Pathfinder was worried for Wraith, as worried as his robotic faculties would let him be, and with Elliot conscious and coherent it meant their friend could prioritise watching over her instead. So his throat tightened a little, walking towards the bed, with thankful affection that Path was still so eager to help.

Right now, he just needed to be near her. Pathfinder was perhaps the only person in the world who wouldn't question his motives for that. He just understood it, intrinsically. Sometimes Path was more insightful than anybody else he'd ever met.

Elliot stood beside the bed, fingers finding purchase around the top bar of the lowered guard, the metal chilling his skin and grounding him, and he simply looked at her. Her hair spilled into the ivory of her pillow like it was leeching the colour from the cotton, it was so deep and stark. It wasn't often he saw her with it down, even with all their downtime together these days. She took it down sometimes when she went out, an image Elliot felt he would never stop being enthralled by, and he was struck not for the first time by the knowledge that doing so was almost like a luxury, to Wraith.

Where most of those around them had some level of image care, particularly those of the Legends who were around cameras like they were as they climbed ranks and knocked others from leader boards, Wraith had always been simpler, he'd go as far as saying she was disinterested in her own appearance. In their very earliest days it had puzzled Elliot, because he himself had always understood appearance to be another weapon, of a kind. Before he knew her the way he did now. When all she'd been was the mysterious, kind of threatening woman assigned him and Path in the wake of losing their last third.

Elliot had learned fast in _his_ early days not to grow attached. They might call it the Games with as much weight as one might talk about sports or video games, but it wasn't. In those games, people didn't die and never come back. In the Apex Games, there were no rematches if you lost, no save files or continue buttons, no timeouts if you fell and twisted your ankle or tore your tendon. The game was one you played with your life. And when those alongside you were gambling theirs, getting attached could end in disaster. He'd seen it in the eyes of victors of other Games, that snapped mentality that was hard to look at, the darkness of what they'd lost right there on the battlefield before their eyes. When the people you fought with were _family_ , their deaths were felt all the more keenly.

People who didn't return to the Games only ever had one of two reasons. Either they couldn't, because it had finally caught up with them and taken their life, or because something inside them had broken. Elliot had sworn to himself, for the sake of his mother, that he would be neither of those. That if- _when_ , he did eventually play his last Game, he wouldn't be left an unhinged mind in a broken shell the way he'd seen happen to the best of the best. He'd keep everyone at arm's length because it was _safer_ that way.

With Pathfinder, that had been harder. For all his flaws and his social hiccups, the robot had had Elliot's back from the very first time they were put together. So much so that they'd been tied together ever since. Pathfinder had never tired of Mirage, of his humour and quips and obnoxiousness, all the pieces of the mask that kept the real Elliot safe in that place. He had his own obnoxiousness, a sunny optimism that could be as terrifying as it could annoying or reassuring. When they stood, splattered with blood and breathless as that first Victory cannon blared out, Elliot had known Pathfinder was different. When his after-game paperwork was lain in front of him, he checked the box agreeing to a future team up. It was something he'd rarely done, always promising himself it would be the last, and each time with the knowledge he was replacing a partner who'd died, but when the horizon of his next Game brought him that cheerful call he'd known in his heart that it was different.

Call it instinct, or premonition or fantasy, whatever. He'd known it, somehow. And for years now, he'd always been right about Path.

When Wraith first showed up in the pre-match Hub with her flinty eyes and her flighty demeanour and their names on her assigned PDA, something about her had drawn him in too. He feared her, that much he could never really hide from her, especially once he'd seen how vicious she was on the field, how ruthlessly she could kill a person. She was secretive, suspicious. Sometimes she disappeared in quiet moments of a Game, and there was always a barrier between them. She was cold to them. Not unfriendly, per se, but… only barely. But she was good, and he'd told himself that was all that mattered. If she was good, he and Path wouldn't have to babysit her. Babysitting incompetent squad members could get a guy killed, and Mirage had no intentions of getting himself or Path killed over some girl who looked like maybe she'd eviscerate them both herself if they so much as pissed her off.

How that had changed was a long story, one that he hadn't really noticed taking place until he'd already grown comfortable in their bond as a team, until he'd already started trusting her with his life the way he only ever _really_ had Pathfinder.

His mother had been right, in her embarrassing, unsubtle manner. Path and Wraith were everything to Elliot. They weren't blood, but they were _his_ just the same. Standing over one of them, her eyes closed to the world and the barest of lines between her eyebrows to bely her discomfort, was something he was sure he'd never stop fearing.

Elliot gripped the guardrail and he stared, and for a while that was enough to help him stem the tide of anxiety and worry that threatened to drown him. She was breathing steadily, if gently, and the machine panels all glowed soft and green, their beeps sedate and comforting. It may have been enough indefinitely, had Wraith not stirred, startling him from the meandering passage of his thoughts. He waited until he was sure she was properly waking before he reached out to brush a lock of dark hair from her cheek. She tensed for just a second before the expression smoothed out and her eyelids lifted.

Her eyes were foggy, not with the misty glow of the Void but with painkillers and sedatives and medication, but they found him without much trouble. He tried to smile. For a while she just watched him, making his skin prickle with the familiar sensation of being the centre of her attention, and his smile grew realer as it began to sink in that she was conscious. Groggy, maybe. But conscious.

"Hey," he whispered, reaching out to curl his fingertips loosely against her palm.

He intended just to put a little pressure, just a touch to tell her he was there, but her hand closed with an unexpected strength, the rough scar tissue on her palm running over his fingers. He squeezed back.

"You had us worried." he murmured, watching her lips twitch.

She was weak and not out of the woods yet, and talking could be draining for her at the best of times. Maybe that was why she stayed quiet. Maybe she just didn't have the energy. She blinked, the navy in her eyes darkening, clearing just a little. It was a good sign, one that made his heart flutter in hope. She may have looked weakened, but her hand was still gripping his firmly, her skin cool but warming under the heat of his own. He gave her another smile, and something seemed to relax in her gaze. He kept talking.

"I don't know what you remember. But you saved my life."

He barely had a breath drawn before he caught her gaze flickering over his face, his throat, his hospital gown and all the bruises and exposed stitches on his arm. He gave an aborted shake of his head. He knew what she was thinking, but he wasn't having it.

"You saved my _life_." he said again, holding her gaze, "I'm okay, Wraith. I've got some bruises and some stitches and some internal bruising, but I'm fine. Pathfinder's fine. You're going to be fine."

She wanted to argue. He saw it pass over her face. But she didn't, instead keeping her eyes on him even though they must be growing tired again, her lashes drooping towards the soft swell of her cheeks. He squeezed again, gently, to say what he was too scared to. What she wouldn't want to hear, either. Her eyes opened again when he did, to let him know she understood. Smiling a third time was easier. And it showed in her eyes and the way her face softened just a little, that she felt it too.

"I better not stay too long," he admitted reluctantly, hating it, "but Path's here, and he'll be in as soon as I go. He says he'll stay till they kick him out."

Wraith said nothing out loud, but it flickered behind her blue eyes anyway. He felt it too, that dreadfulness. Like relief, if relief were tainted so deeply by fear that it felt almost sickly. It had been a close call. The closest, even closer to the bone than their recent escape with naught but her Wingman two games ago. It's what compelled his mouth to toss aside pretences and for his tongue to say what it did.

"We didn't want to think about what it'd mean, to lose you."

It sounded vulnerable and stripped raw like a wound, like he was bleeding onto the floor from it. Wraith's eyes might have misted, he wasn't sure. He was still pretty foggy himself, and emotions had a better chance of overtaking him when he was like this. He cleared his throat, but maybe it only made it clearer how he felt. Wraith's grip loosened, her fingers curling in the run along his palm as she let go. And that was enough, that was all he needed.

"I'll be back," he whispered, leaning over on careful impulse to press a kiss to her forehead, "get some rest, and heal up for us, huh?"

The thin joke fell flat but it helped lift the mood enough that he felt less guilty leaving, and if he paused in the doorway to glance back, and if Wraith was watching him leave, that was okay. Resting was easier when he'd snuck back into his own bed, after Pathfinder had flashed him a smily face and pressed one cold metallic hand against his shoulder as he passed into Wraith's room.

It was a full twenty four hours before he saw her again, but this time he didn't have to untangle himself from an IV, or sneak around in a gown. They still refused to let him discharge himself, but at least he could lie in the bed in his own clothing, the soft cotton a comfort and a shield that he wished he could give to Wraith. He knew she hated it, lying in the strange clinical room with nothing to call her own, surrounded by machines and strange sheets and forced to wear the rough material that would give them swift access if sudden surgery was needed again.

And that was a real possibility in Wraith's case, her condition stabilising hadn't been enough to remove her from ICU, and that was the maybe the realest indicator that Elliot had that Wraith's shave with death had been closer than anybody wanted to tell him. Pathfinder still hadn't left the hospital, though Elliot had seen very little of him today beyond his presence at lunchtime to distract Elliot's mother long enough for Elliot to eat, and for him to update them on how she was. No real change, beyond her being more alert than yesterday, but that was a huge improvement that shouldn't be disregarded.

Elliot and his mother had fallen into easy truce again, easier for Elliot to do now that he'd at least seen with his own two eyes that the woman he depended on so fiercely was alive and fighting to stay that way. If anyone could win that fight, it was her. He knew that as a truth. The corridor was quiet with the hush of Midnight when he snuck out, having barely convinced his mother to go home again when the evening had drawn in, now that he was clear of the woods. In truth, he thought she may suspect his other motives, but if she did she chose wisely not to say so. He didn't need another argument. He didn't have the energy for one, either.

The room was just as hushed when he entered for the second time, the dim shadows greeting him like an embrace as he padded over to the bedside. Wraith was asleep or looked it, when he arrived, but it only took a few moments for her eyes to flutter open, finding him instantly. He grinned. He couldn't help it. Seeing her awake and alive was just forcing aside every negative. She was bruised and small and looked to be in pain despite the drips he could see quite clearly, but she was watching him and that meant she was really there.

"Hey," he greeted, with nothing more exciting to say, reaching for her hand before he could stop himself.

Wraith curled her fingers around his in return and the minute contact was enough to settle his nerves. She gave a significant breath, an attempt at a huff, and his smile only grew.

"It's good to see you haven't gone rogue on me to escape yet."

Wraith's heavy eyes left his for just a second, turning upwards to the ceiling, and they stayed there for several seconds, until his throat croaked a laugh, and when she looked back his way the glance was amused.

"Okay. Not in great taste. But you're laughing."

She blinked, her lips twitching, and he squeezed her hand.

"Seriously though, I know it isn't easy. You're doing great."

That time her expression moved, just tiny movements like a ghost of her being unimpressed, but it was in her eyes that she could hear what he was saying without saying. He cast around for a chair, spying it in the corner of the room, but as his eyes alighted on it her grip tightened. So for now he looked back at her, taking in her face and smiling as reassuringly as he could.

She looked worn out already, and he couldn't blame her. With all the meds in her system it was a surprise she looked as conscious as she did. The kinds of dosages she'd need were designed to keep a patient pliant and sleepy, to stop them moving around too much and hindering their healing. It was a kind of torture for Wraith. Had been one of the earliest things he learned about her that really gave him any insight into who Wraith was. He squeezed her hand.

"You're tired." he said after a beat, watching her fight to keep her eyes open, "You can sleep, Wraith. Your body needs it."

The tiniest twitch at her brow gave him her argument, even as her eyes fell shut again in a long, slow blink. She found him again when they opened. He didn't want to leave her, but he also didn't want to get caught. Every time he asked about her they told him the same thing. That she was resting and healing, and wasn't fit for visitors just yet. He knew if she had family, they'd be allowed to visit. It felt incredibly unjust that she had to be on her own because he wasn't included in that, given that she didn't _have_ any family. It wasn't his ego speaking when he admitted to himself that he and Path were the closest she had. She wasn't one for friends.

They were lucky that Pathfinder had been able to talk his way out of trouble, when he was caught in her room. Something about the MRVN unit put people at a weird kind of ease, almost like they were dealing with a child. Normally it irked the three of them, but now Elliot was grateful for it. Pathfinder need only voice that he was concerned for his squadmate and the nurses were shooing him with naught but tutting and firm warning. If Elliot got caught, he'd have explaining to do. Particularly to any of the nurses who were close followers of tabloid gossip.

It didn't really bear thinking about.

Wraith's eyes had fallen closed again, an her grip was loosening. He gave her hand a brief squeeze again, waiting to see if her eyes would open again, and smiling when they did so sleepily.

"I gotta get back to my room." he whispered, not wanting to wake her further, "Get some sleep."

It was probably just his imagination that told him her eyes were saddened, but maybe they really were. She didn't like hospitals. That was putting it mildly, really. She _loathed_ them. But she let him go when he drew his hand away, and he leaned over to press a kiss to her forehead on some stolen shred of bravery, heartened to see the minute twitch at the corner of her mouth when he met her exhausted gaze once more.

"Seeya soon, Wraith."

On the third day, she was waiting. Her head turned toward the sound of the opening door, and her lips drew into a weary smile when her eyes met his. Elliot felt it bleed across his face in reply, relief making him a little lightheaded. He stopped by the guard, hesitating just a second under her clear-eyed gaze before winding his fingers around the cool, bracing metal. Wraith's eyes studied him, and despite the feeling of being opened up and peering into, it was a relief to see her bright and lucid again so soon.

"Hey. How you feelin'?"

He wasn't really sure what he expected in answer. It wasn't the creaking sound of her voice weak and disused, though maybe knowing Wraith it should've been.

"Like I got shot."

It wasn't funny, really. Okay it wasn't funny _at all_ , but battlefield humour was a safe place to start.

"Yeah, thanks for that reminder. I'd almost managed scrubbing it outta my brain." he muttered, rolling his eyes and blowing out his fringe for full effect, pleased to hear the cracked inhale that signalled her humour.

When he dropped his eyes again, she was looking at him. Her head was propped up tonight, pillows plumped and angled to give her a little more support. Her skin was creamy pale in all the places that weren't painted in bluing greens and purples. He hadn't wanted to come in and think about the battle, and he couldn't face a play-by-play or a deconstruction, not until she was back on her feet. But as he looked at her, all he saw was hurtling across the room faster than should be humanly possible, the hard impact knocking his breath from him as the floor rose up to thump into him. There had been so much blood from them both, collecting underneath them like some ghoulish rug while he fumbled for his reload, while he held off their opponent for those precious seconds until Pathfinder could drive from his own fresh fight.

She'd done it for him. He knew it, as surely as he knew anything, and it scared him right down to his core. That his mother was right, and Wraith had done it on purpose. Wraith had almost died for him. And she was no fool. He'd never seen anyone fight like her, never seen anyone dance that fine line as elegantly as she. She was bound to know her chances. She was anything but stupid.

But that would mean she'd done it knowing she could be trading her life for his. And that was almost more than Elliot's soul would let him bear.

"I'm sorry." he blurted, swallowing, "I should've had that reload, I should've- I should've been able to secure that fight."

"Elliot…"

Wraith's voice was tired and plain, but she was gentle with the sound of his name in ways he'd never been able to quite defend his heart against. Her head shook gently against the pillow.

"I know." he stopped her, because he didn't think he could take it.

She would argue it, and there was no point in that. It would only tire them both out, and she needed her strength.

"But I still..."

He trailed awkwardly, feeling the heat of shame on his face while she stared at him with those eagle eyes, stripping him bare and obvious before her. He was compelled to apologise. This was his fault. The fight had been his fault, the flanking direction had been _his_ choice. If she'd died, and from _his_ plan…

Elliot's eyes burned just thinking about it.

Her hand twitched atop the sheet, her palm opening like a budding flower, fingers like petals. He took it, and it helped. She squeezed it, just the press of her skin into his, and he heard her. She knew him too well, far too well. Better than he'd ever intended, even with all his flirting and prodding and his shameless attempts to get closer to her. He'd never truly expected the bond they had now, but he'd forever be grateful for it.

"I'm sorry." he said suddenly, mind walking from the battlefield, meandering familiar streets as she looked at him in tired reprimand, and arrived at his own apartment as his mouth kept talking, "I'm sorry for that night, I'm sorry that you almost died before I got to say that."

"Sorry?" she asked, the sound slow and careful enough to convey her dry throat, "For what?"

His teeth sank into his inner cheek as he met her bemused expression. He'd known he'd have to address this. He'd _known_ it couldn't go unsaid. Not when she'd been so clear about her discomfort. He missed her. He'd do anything it took to fix this. He wanted his best friend back so fiercely that it was almost like courage.

"I'm sorry for telling you I love you when you were falling asleep. I- I wasn't… I wasn't thinking, and it- it was… I…"

He shoulders rose limply in a meagre impression of a shrug as he looked away, finding the monitor to the right of the bed draw his eye. One of the numbers had jumped. Not far from green, only a shade or so lighter into yellow territory, and he cursed himself from dropping the reminder so casually, so bluntly right there between them when she was still recovering from practically _dying_.

Way to go, Witt. You're a genius.

Wraith's brow twitched just barely, the smallest crease appearing as she stared up at him. He felt his stomach churning, and reminding himself he was a _Legend_ , for God's sake, didn't help a bit with the anxious terror that was tearing him up inside.

Wraith blinked. Her lips parted, but closed again without any words coming out. Elliot swallowed.

"When you…"

He waited, watching her eyes, watching her try to decide what to say. If she was being careful with her words it probably wasn't good news for him, or his stupid heart.

"I'm sorry." he managed to say again, his eyes beginning to water.

She shook her head, brow furrowing for real as she opened her mouth again.

"You said you loved me, as I was falling asleep." she repeated, and the tone in her voice wasn't helping him ignore the dreadful panic building in his gut.

Elliot couldn't do anything but nod, anticipating the inevitable end of their partnership before further confusion flickered across her face. She shifted in the bed and winced, her eyes darting away from him and back, and Elliot would almost have guessed she looked… nervous.

" _You_ did."

Well, now it was his turn to be confused.

"Said it. You said it."

Was his brain glitching, or was she just not making sense?

As he took a breath to query what she was trying to say Elliot was struck dumb by the sudden, startling red that bloomed across her cheeks. It was so very dark against her pale skin, that it looked almost like blood. Alarm shot through his spine but when he asked if she was in pain she only blinked again and, incredibly slowly, lifted a hand to cover her throat.

"Wraith?"

Her eyes snapped to his, bright and dark and full of weird, ill-fitting things. He felt driven to apologise again, to plead for forgiveness, panicking that she was going to bolt on him any second because she looked so flighty.

Wraith only stared at him. And stared. And _stared_. Elliot was out of ideas, standing there beside the hospital bed, his pulse rushing in his ears like a waterfall crashing, his fingers shaking where they clenched against his palms, feeling like he'd ruined his life a couple weeks ago and was now facing its impending demise.

"I'm sorry." he said again, cringing at the pathetic sound of his own voice.

She was really worrying him now, her eyes wider than he might ever have seen them, her breath a pitchy whistle when she let it go. He threw caution to the wind and reached again for the hand lying on the sheet between them, taking it gently in his own and curling his fingers around it. Her skin was rough and calloused, and he knew she hated being left without her gloves because it showed her scars but when he took her hand her fingers responded reflexively and wound themselves in his.

Her eyes looked wary when he met them again, but her other hand was dropping from her throat ever so slowly, so he took that as a good sign and forged ahead before his nerve deserted him completely.

"I know that you don't- that we're different, like that, and I didn't- I wasn't asking for anything, Wraith. I didn't even mean to say it, and I don't want it to fuck up what we have and I- I miss you and-"

"I didn't say it." she interrupted him in a tiny, wavering murmur that rose at the end like a question, and when he clicked his mouth shut in surprise she squeezed his hand.

He shook his head, hopeful that maybe if she was _talking_ to him then he wasn't losing her.

"No, _I_ -"

And very very suddenly, Elliot felt every cell in his body all at once, as though he'd been doused in water or set alight or struck by lightning, and the truth in her eyes just made _sense_. It was his turn to stare, his tongue unhelpful and mute, as an unfamiliar panic crept into her face.

"Elliot…"

Her head shifted minutely from side to side as they stared at each other, and she looked very small and lost in a way he'd never believed Wraith could. His heart was skittering around and making it hard to focus, and even his lungs were having trouble doing what they were designed to. He thought, hysterically, that maybe he should build himself new lungs that worked properly.

"You-" he tried before swallowing around his unwieldy tongue and starting over, "You thought you'd said it? What would you..."

Wraith closed her eyes and bit her lip, but before Elliot could even marvel at how pretty she looked even in distress, he felt a new flicker of panic at the sight of a tear; pooling in the corner of her eye and rolling delicately over the gentle round of her cheek. His fingers reached to catch it before he could stop them, and her face turned a little away in an aborted motion. His heart leapt, for she'd stopped herself from jerking away. His thoughts thoroughly derailed, he was filled with instant concern.

"Wraith? Help me out here," he pleaded softly, brushing his thumb bravely over the flushed, bruised skin, "what's wrong? Should I get someone?"

She stayed still for a long moment, long enough that the hope that had been fluttering around in his ribcage like a fragile bird was beginning to die. When she did raise her eyelids, her eyes were dark navy pools of emotion that further stole his breath.

"I'm sorry." she whispered, a sound Elliot would call a whimper if it had come from anyone but her, and he was compelled forwards, his other hand reaching for her face.

Another tear fell while she didn't turn away, and he pressed the pad of his thumb gently into the damp cheek as his forehead met hers. She shook her head weakly but her hand rose to take hold of the collar of his t-shirt, betraying the gesture. Elliot swallowed hard, his heart racing, when the fingers he'd untangled from his own slid across his cheek and came to a rest against his nape, as if he'd leave. His palms cradled her face and her breath ghosted over his as she cried quietly and Elliot simply held her. For a long, long time they didn't speak.

He knew something was changing, something irrevocable, and that they'd never be the same after. He felt calm and in control and if he had any braincells left to worry about that he might have, only Wraith needed him and he was going to be there and that was enough for now. Her nose grazed his when her breath hitched from one silent sob to the next, and when he felt her shrinking away into herself he pressed a kiss against one cheek to let her know he didn't mind, and when she finally grew still again and he drew away, it was with the trace of salt on his lips.

He located the chair abandoned in one corner of the room, slipping into it at the bedside. He took it as a good sign that even though she didn't quite meet his eye her hand reached for his when he was back in range. She threaded their fingers together like she needed a handhold, and he gave it a firm squeeze.

She was flushed pink and red with tears, and he didn't need to see the exhaustion in every line of her face to know it was there. It had been entirely too close a call, this time. Pathfinder had secured the win for them but even the robot was concerned. He'd had enough sense not to say the numbers out loud on the retrieval ship, but Elliot knew now that he had felt it in the air between them before he slipped under.

It almost made all his anxiety about admitting he loved her seem… trivial.

The idea of losing her was far worse than loving her in silence. He'd fix this, however he needed to to keep her around. No matter what it took. That had been his plan when he entered the room a mere few moments ago.

But he felt lost now, in the face of what she'd admitted, and it was difficult not to hope. More difficult than it had ever been before. But he'd do it, if he had to. Pretend it never happened, even knowing it would hurt. He'd do it, if it was what she needed from him.

"I'm sorry." she whispered again, and that was all she needed to say for him to know that it weighed as heavily on her as it did him.

"It's okay," he gave her, reaching bravely to brush her fringe from her forehead though her eyes remained closed, "I'm just glad you're still here."

She looked at him then with a tired smile, and he knew it was going to be okay no matter what. They were squad, friends first and foremost. They were _family_.

"You thought you said it." she said then, surprising him.

She was watching him intently, making him very aware of what his face was showing. Like she was cataloguing his expression, looking for something. Or waiting for something. He knew the look. And he knew what she wasn't saying. Honesty, pure and simple. He swallowed his fear.

"I _did_ say it."

Her cheeks grew darker in the shadow, but her gaze didn't waver. He didn't say anything else, for a change. He didn't need to, either. He held her hand and watched her watch him, and when Pathfinder joined them, taking her other hand to keep her safe between them and speaking uncharacteristically softly to her, the smile she gave them both made Elliot's heart happy.

~.~


End file.
